


It Begins at Midnight

by nothingeverlost



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: Benoit shows up after midnight.  He isn’t alone and he needs her help.
Relationships: Benoit Blanc/Marta Cabrera
Comments: 10
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Cablanca Week! For the first prompt "Mystery"

The ringing noise wouldn’t stop. At first she thought it was a part of her dream, but when she opened her eyes to look at the clock - a little after midnight - the ringing continued. She carried her phone with her, wondering if she would need to call for help. Unfortunately she was at least ten minutes, more realistically fifteen, from anyone arriving. Maybe her mom was right about hiring a security person.

“Marta?” The voice through the door was muffled, but even with that it was easily identifiable. Marta dropped her phone into the pocket of her robe and opened the door.

“Benoit?” She hadn’t spoken to him for more than two weeks, since the trial had ended, yet here he was after midnight with a bundle of blankets and a nervous smile.

“I am sorry to bother you at this late hour but we are in need of your assistance.” The light on the porch wasn’t bright and she hadn’t turned on the entry light.

“We?” she asked.

“Miss Marta Cabrera, meet my friend Amelia Sinclair.” He pulled back the blanket he was holding to reveal whisps of dark hair and a child’s face. There were streaks of dried tears on her cheeks. “A rather troubling situation has compelled me to find a safe place to hide her for a day or two. I was hoping you might be able to help.”

“Please come in.” She locked the door after he was inside. Her first instinct was to touch her hand to the little girl’s forehead. She registered the fact that there was no fever first, and the fact that the side of her hand was resting on Benoit’s chest second. “Is she hurt anywhere?”

“No, thankfully. She is unfortunately rather scared and confused, and understandably crying for her mother.” He turned and slid closed the chain lock she’d ignored. “Is there someplace I might put her down? Though she is small my arm is falling asleep.”

“One of the guest rooms? There are no children’s rooms with cribs but we could use pillows.” The child was perhaps too old for a crib; Marta judged her to be about three, but she was also too young to be wandering around a strange place.

“We would both be grateful.” Benoit couldn’t hide a yawn.

“When is the last time you slept?” Now that there was more light she could see the red puffiness of his eyes and the wrinkles in his usually well-pressed outfit.

“Day before yesterday, I believe. Is it still Thursday?”

“It was until a few minutes ago. It’s after midnight.” She led him up the stairs to the hall on the right. She’d taken one of the back bedrooms for herself. The one across to her had two beds and also looked out over the front of the house; she assumed that Benoit would rather see who came up the front drive rather than the more peaceful backyard view. “Her mother isn’t with you?”

Benoit looked over his shoulder at her for a moment before carefully placing the child on one of the beds, but didn’t answer. He covered her with blankets and put a pillow on either side of her. From somewhere inside his suit jacket he pulled out a small stuffed dog; he tucked it under the girl’s arm. Before stepping out of the room he turned on the lamp beside the bed, and turned off the overhead light. 

“Something happened to her mother, didn’t it.” It hadn’t taken more than a glance to read the answer in his eyes. 

“I was hired to find her, but I wasn’t the only one. If I’d been just a little faster.” He shook his head. “She was bleeding out when I found her. She had just enough time to tell me that Amelia was hiding in her closet.”

“That poor little girl. I hope she didn’t see anything.” For a moment she was one floor up in Harlan’s study, watching blood flow from his throat. She still had nightmares sometimes. “What about her father?”

“I think he’s the one that ordered the hit. Custody dispute.” Benoit frowned. “That’s why I can’t take her to the authorities yet; they’d call her father. I need to find out if he’s responsible and I need to make sure she’s safe.”

“She’s safe here.” ‘So are you,’ she wanted to add, but didn’t. “I haven’t packed up Harlan’s things yet if you wanted something to sleep in.”

“That would be mighty appreciated.”

“I’ll go get them, so you don’t have to leave her alone.” Harlan’s room was in the other wing. It was still strange to think she owned a house that had wings, or owned a house at all. While she’d started getting rid of things in the rest of the house Harlan’s room was still as he’d left it. He had been a very organized man, and she found a pair of silk pajamas in a drawer. He didn’t have anything but silk pajamas; at least they were close to the right size. She took a robe too, in case she wanted it. From her own room she picked up a t-shirt in case the little girl needed something new to wear. It was as close as she could get to the right size.

“Thank you. You are very kind.”

“Anyone would do the same for a friend.” She bit her lip; maybe it was too much to say friend; after all their relationship had centered around an investigation and a trial. Once the sentencing happened there wasn’t even a reason for them to see each other again.

“I am lucky to be your friend then, Marta.” He smiled at her before dismissing himself to change. She tried not to stare when he came out of the connecting bathroom, barefoot and clothed in blue silk. When she was little she’d had such a crush on Cary Grant; her mother had watched old movies to help with her English; the accents were usually clearer and easier to understand. Marta was reminded of that innocent childhood crush and her not quite so innocent more recent crush.

“I’m across the hall if you need anything. Please help yourself to anything in the kitchen if you’re hungry.” She quickly dismissed herself, closing the door behind her. It took more than an hour before she was able to fall asleep. Worry about the small girl dominated her thoughts, but when she fell asleep it was blue silk that featured in her dreams.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marta wakes to find Benoit in the kitchen making breakfast.

The first thing Marta did when she woke up was take a shower and get dressed. Greeting Benoit that night before in a robe was one thing, but she wasn’t about to do it a second time. The second thing she did was check on the room across the hall. The door was open, both beds were made, and the only overt sign that the whole thing wasn’t a dream was the stuffed dog on top of the pillow. There was no note; she hoped it meant he hadn’t left. 

The kitchen seemed the most logical place to look first, and she could hear them clearly as she came down the back staircase.

“What about this one, Miss Amelia?” 

“Triangle.” The young girl was sitting on the counter far enough from the stove that she couldn’t touch, but close enough that she could see what was happening. Benoit was dressed in his same clothes from the night before, but they were now protected by a red floral apron. He was making pancakes.

“It’s an A, the first letter of your name. A for Amelia.” His voice was gentle as he put the pancake on a plate. He’d clearly been working for a while since there were a dozen other pancakes on the plate, none of them round.

“A for ‘melia. A for apple.” Amelia almost sang, rather than speaking. She sounded like it was something she’d said before. Her mom had probably been working with her on her letters. Marta’s heart ached for the little girl who wouldn’t get to see her mom again. “More.”

“Alright. This time we’re going to do a B, for Benoit. That’s my name.” He carefully poured more batter into the pan. From her place in the doorway Marta couldn’t see the shape, but his intense concentration amused her. “Can you say Benoit?”

“Wah,” was the proud but not quite accurate reply.

“It’s better than Benny,” he said with a shrug. “Now remember we’re waiting for the bubbles. You tell me when you see them and then we count to three and turn it over.”

“Can I get one of those or are you working your way from C to L first?” Marta was tempted to see how long it took before she was noticed, but that didn’t seem fair. 

“You may have any letter you like, or any shape with the warning that all my animals end up looking the same.” Benoit took the pancake out of the pan and set down the spatula before picking up the little girl. “Amelia this is my friend Marta. This is her house we’re staying in right now. Can you say hi to Miss Marta?”

Amela buried her face against Benoit’s shirt and shook her head.

“It’s okay, Amelia, you don’t have to say anything. I have a couple of friends you might want to meet, though. Do you like dogs?” She hoped the stuffed dog she carried might mean she liked animals, though some kids were afraid of dogs.

“Puppies?” Amelia turned her head just a little. Marta was relieved to hear the note of interest in her voice.

“Yes, puppies. Big ones that are waiting for their breakfast just like you. Would you like to help me feed them?” She pointed to the bowls in the corner of the kitchen. They were in a raised stand engraved with their names - Chandler and Hammett. It had amused Harlan to name his dogs after other mystery writers.

“Puppies eat pancakes.” Amelia wiggled and Benoit bent down, setting her carefully on the floor.

“I don’t think so, Miss Amelia. The pancakes are for you, me, and Miss Marta. I believe Miss Marta might show you where the dogs have their own food.” He winked at Marta, nonchalantly turning back to his pancakes.

“The puppies are very hungry so we need to give them three scoops each of food. Can you count to three?” She helped the little girl fill the bowls. They weren’t quite done when she started to hear the telltale sound of paws on the tile floors. She braced herself, ready in case it was too much all at once for Amelia, but she didn’t have to worry. The little girl was delighted.

“Puppies!” she squealed, her hands clutching at Chandler’s fur as he stood patiently despite his waiting food. His brother was more interested in his breakfast, but Chandler was an old soul and seemed to understand that he was needed. “Love you puppy.”

Marta took a step back, letting the child play with her new friend. When Chandler wandered over to his dish Amelia followed, giggling to watch the boys eat their food. It was nice to see her so happy and innocent looking.

“You’re good with her.” Marta tensed for just a moment, not realizing how close Benoit was until his voice was almost a whisper in her ear.

“Says that man using pancakes to teach the alphabet.” He was a natural. If she hadn’t known differently she would have assumed that Amelia was his daughter, not part of his job.

“I am one of seventeen cousins, and most of them have progeny. I’ve taken my turn changing diapers and entertaining the little ones. Our family gatherings would make even this place look crowded.”

“I can’t imagine that. I’ve never met any cousins, they all live in Cuba.” Family for her meant her mom and her sister, now that her dad was gone. 

“I’m more than willing to let you have a few of mine, if you like.” He laughed. “Now what shape would you like for your first pancake?”

“A dog?” she asked as she watched Chandler finish his dinner and lay down. Amelia quickly figured out that she could use him as a pillow.

“I think I might manage that. Do you have any syrup? I haven’t had a chance to look yet.”

“Alice made me buy some. I don’t usually eat breakfast.” She was usually too busy to do more than get herself a cup of coffee.

“It’s the most important meal of the day. As a nurse you should know that,” he scolded lightly, but his gaze lingered until she went into the pantry to find the syrup. When she came out he was setting the table, the small one in the kitchen rather than taking things out to the dining room. He’d found a couple of old phone books, apparently, as a makeshift booster seat for Amelia’s chair.

“Breakfast is served.” He held out a chair for her. When she sat down she found that he had made a pancake that looked more like a mouse than a dog, but he had given it a smiley face. 

“Thank you.” He sat across from her, with Amelia at the ‘head’ of the table. A dog sat on either side of her. They probably instinctively knew that small children were more likely to drop food, but Marta liked to think they were feeling protective of the girl. It was good, she needed to be protected. Then again she had Benoit in her corner, and who could ask for more than that?


End file.
